


Patterns of Laughter

by wizefics (bewize)



Category: RH Plus (TV)
Genre: Multi, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewize/pseuds/wizefics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Michitaka saw Kiyoi, he was 13 years old and his grandfather lay dying inside.  Ten years later, the vampire returns and Michitaka wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns of Laughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daegaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/gifts).



> The title of this fic is taken from the 1995 Tokyo Summer Music Festival. Also, I am not sure of timelines, so I fudged them.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers.

"You're very quiet today, Michitaka-kun. Has something upset you?" The question startled Michitaka from his thoughts and he blinked owlishly at the woman across the table.

Forcing a smile, Michitaka inclined his head. "I'm sorry, Sanyo-chan. I am terrible company this evening."

"Not because you're thinking about another woman, I hope," Sanyo answered playfully, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. Michitaka watched it cascade around her neck and down her back. "It's taken me months to get just this one date with you."

"It's a man."

Sanyo twitched, clearly startled and Michitaka realized suddenly how that must have sounded. "I mean… it's not…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I went to my grandfather's grave today."

Sanyo softened immediately. "I'm sorry. When did he die?"

"When I was a boy." Michitaka looked at her, smiling wistfully. "I don't even know why I went."

Sanyo reached over to pat his hand softly, her fingertips cool against his knuckles. "You were being respectful."

"I suppose." His lips twitched wryly. "Although I did not visit my father's grave."

Sanyo pulled her hands back, dropping them to her lap as she studied him. "It's been hard on you, dealing with his death this year."

Michitaka looked away, unwilling to let her see his eyes. When he spoke again, his words were clipped. "My father's death was an inconvenience."

"You cared for him," Sanyo chided. "You can't pretend otherwise."

"The problem was never me caring for him." Michitaka glanced at her. "It was his feelings about me. I suppose that's why I went to my grandfather's grave. My father felt the same way about my grandfather as he felt about me."

Sanyo sighed. "Michitaka-kun, let's leave the restaurant and go for a walk. It's so beautiful in Tokyo at night and you're not even enjoying your food. I don't want our date to end badly."

"I'm sorry, Sanyo-chan. You're being very kind. I know I am not being fair to you."

"It's all right, Michitaka-kun. You're quite the catch. I can be patient," Sanyo teased. "As long as you promise me another date where you can focus your attention on me."

Gratefully, Michitaka nodded and signaled the server. "There is a Festival tomorrow night. If you're free, I would be happy to take you."

The server arrived and Michitaka glanced at him. "Can you bring the check please?"

The waiter bowed slightly and rushed off to do as he'd been bidden. Sanyo clapped her hands. "That would be wonderful. I love Festivals."

Michitaka smiled, tilting his head to make his hair fall over his forehead in what he hoped was boyish charm. "I shall do my best to win you a prize."

"You are the prize, Michitaka-kun." Sanyo smiled. "I will look forward to tomorrow night. What time?"

"Seven." Michitaka answered, as the waiter returned and cleared his throat.

"Your meal has been taken care of, sir." The waiter smiled, clearly expecting Michitaka to be pleased.

"By whom?" Sanyo asked, clearly confused.

"The gentleman at the bar." The waiter glanced over his shoulder and Michitaka stiffened as he followed his gaze and saw the same familiar face that he'd seen at his grandfather's grave earlier.

"Who is that?" Sanyo asked him, her voice a whisper as she picked up on Michitaka's discomfort.

"I'll be back in a moment." Michitaka didn't look at Sanyo as he stood up. Quickly he wove his way to the bar, avoiding other diners and ignoring their cheerful conversation.

"What are you doing here?" Michitaka demanded harshly. He cast a quick look at the patrons on either side of the man he spoke to, grateful that they were intent on their own conversations.

Kiyoi smiled, lifting the glass of wine to his mouth and sipping delicately before answering. "Enjoying a fine Cabernet."

"You followed me here."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kiyoi scoffed, his smile slightly mocking.

"What do you want?" Michitaka demanded, not caring that the others at the bar glanced at him in curiosity.

Kiyoi sobered. "I promised your grandfather that I would look after you."

Michitaka shook his head. "You vanished for ten years. And you show up today – looking no different than you did then - looking no different than you did when you met my grandfather sixty years ago."

Kiyoi grabbed Michitaka's elbow and pulled him close. "Keep your voice down, Michitaka-kun. You're alarming the other guests." _His breath smells like wine._ \- that stray thought crossed Michitaka's mind as he wrenched his elbow away. Kiyoi let him go.

"Stay away from me." Michitaka spoke slowly and clearly, aware that they were now the center of a great deal of attention.

Kiyoi glanced around before meeting Michitaka's eyes. Slowly, he nodded.

Spinning, Michitaka returned to his table. Sanyo was standing and staring at him in amazement. "What was that about?" she asked.

"Let's go." Avoiding her question, Michitaka took her arm to guide her out of the restaurant. "It's nothing. He's nothing. Just a problem from the past."

Sanyo said nothing, but went willingly along. Outside, Michitaka paused to take a deep breath, tilting his head up and staring at the moon. The light pollution in Tokyo prevented him from seeing many stars, but Michitaka knew they were there. He had spent too many years on his grandfather's various estates in the country to not have them memorized.

"Michitaka," Sanyo whispered his name softly, concern clear in her voice even as she squeezed his arm. "Are you all right?"

He smiled at her, opening his eyes. "You are beautiful."

The compliment made her smile, but it didn't drive the obvious worry from her eyes. "Don't fret. It's nothing." He took her hand, rubbing it between his and trying to reassure her. "Your hand is freezing!"

She shrugged charmingly. "It was cold in the restaurant. But you are doing a wonderful job of warming me up."

Laughing, Michitaka pushed all thoughts of Kiyoi and his grandfather from his mind. "Allow me to walk you home."

"Of course." Sanyo smiled mischievously. "I was counting on it."

Cars passed by them in a constant stream of blurred lights and noise as they walked. Sanyo lived in an apartment building not far from the restaurant and they cut through a park as they walked. To their surprise, a band was performing in the middle pavilion and Michitaka caught Sanyo in his arms, spinning her in a quick dance.

She threw her head back and laughed and for a moment Michitaka thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

***************

"Memoia," Michitaka opened the door to his office and called out to his secretary. "What is this?"

Memoia glanced up from the papers she was sorting. "It is a letter from your accountant, Michitaka-san."

Michitaka resisted the urge to sigh. "I'aware. When did it arrive?"

"Early this morning. I believe you were in the meeting with the Board."

"Did you open it?"

Memoia frowned. "Yes, sir. Should I not have?"

"No, it's fine." Michitaka waived his hand. "You know as much about the books as I do. You worked for my father and my grandfather. I was just wondering if you could explain a few of these expenses to me."

Memoia stood up and came over to take the letter from his hand, her skirt swishing around her calves. Even with her gray hair piled on the top of her head, she barely came to Michitaka's chin. Skimming over the pages, she frowned. "I assumed that you authorized these expenses, Michitaka-san."

"What are they?" Michitaka asked, bewildered.

Memoia didn't meet his eyes. "They are the costs of running the Eternal Moon Manor, sir."

"What is that?"

"One of your estates."

Michitaka frowned, studying the tiny secretary as she studiously avoided looking at him. "Memoia, I would ask you to speak frankly."

Memoia looked up to meet his eyes. "It is the Estate that Douzan-san earmarked for his… friend."

"Friend?"

"Yes, sir. His friend. I believe they were especially close."

"What was this friend's name?" Michitaka demanded, suspiciously.

"I do not know his name, sir. We were never introduced."

"But you saw him?" Memoia nodded and Michitaka pursed his lips. "What did he look like?"

"He was tall and quite good looking. I don't know how old he was. He had a rather ageless face." She trailed off and Michitaka nodded, resisting the urge to rub his eyes again.

"What happened to this Estate?"

"Your grandfather left it to his friend, but provided funds to keep the place running."

"Why am I just now seeing this bill?"

"I believe your grandfather's friend left after Douzan-san's death." Memoia shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, but I really don't know more."

"That's all right, Memoia-san. I'm fairly certain I know who this friend is. It appears that he's returned."

Michitaka went back into his office and shut the door softly, before leaning against it. It seemed that his problem from the past was back to stay for a while. He dug through the desk until he found the copy of his grandfather's will and read over it carefully. He hadn't bothered to look at it before, accepting his father's word that everything belonged to them.

After a moment, he went to his phone and dialed carefully. It rang several times before a familiar, comforting voice answered. "Hello?"

"Sanyo? I am sorry, but I need to cancel our date tonight. Something urgent has come up at work."

"But we were going to go to the Festival tonight." Sanyo couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.

"I know and I am sorry. But we can go tomorrow night."

"If you are too busy, Michitaka-kun, I can go with one of my girlfriends."

Michitaka hesitated. He hated cancelling on Sanyo, keenly aware that he was doing little to improve her opinion of him. Additionally, he knew that he had become increasingly hermit-like over the past year as he learned to govern his family's business, but at the same time, he couldn't put off facing Kiyoi for long. The accountants were bound to notice the sudden expenses and he was already having trouble convincing the Board that he was fit as CEO. Family inheritance or not, he was only 23 years old.

"Perhaps that would be best," he finally admitted. "I will make it up to you, I promise. Forgive me, please?"

"Of course. But I would like more of your time, when you make it up to me. Not another fancy and expensive dinner," she answered sharply, before the sound of the dial tone sounded in his ear. She had hung up on him. Regretfully, he eyed the phone before setting it in its cradle.

Going back to his door, he opened it. "Memoia-san," he called out. "Can you please have a car meet me at the front door in ten minutes? I have an urgent appointment."

"Yes, sir." Memoia glanced up at him, expression unreadable. Uncomfortably, Michitaka shut the door and went to stare at his grandfather's portrait. It unsettled him, to see a face so like his own, albeit more advanced in years, staring back at him. He had always resembled his grandfather, much to his father's disgust.

Douzan stared back at him, his pain-flecked eyes daring Michitaka to judge him. Painfully, Michitaka recalled Douzan's final days and how, even as life slipped away from him, he thought of his lover rather than his family.

Michitaka's father had never forgiven Douzan for loving anyone more than he had his family and his hatred of what Kiyoi had meant bled over into a hatred of what Kiyoi had been. "Demon," he had hissed to Michitaka when Michitaka had innocently mentioned meeting Kiyoi one summer's day.

"He seemed nice to me," Mitchika countered, cowering back when his father flew into a rage.

"He is a monster! A demon! A bloodsucking vampire! Do not let him condemn you to hell as he has surely condemned Douzan."

Michitaka cried, hot tears slipping down his face, until his father had comforted him, lifting one rough hand to tousle Mitchitaka's hair. His father's hatred did not mesh with the raw torment Michitaka had seen in Kiyoi's eyes as the vampire lingered outside his grandfather's home as Douzan lay dying inside.

"I offered him eternal life," Kiyoi choked, falling to his knees. "Even now, I would give it to him, but he…"

Pity had overcome the fear that Michitaka felt remembering his father's words, and he had dropped his bicycle to go and stand nearer to the older man. Kiyoi glanced at him in surprise. "Would you take him these flowers? They were always his favorites."

Michitaka had looked at the bouquet of white roses for a moment, before shaking his head. "My father will only throw them away."

Kiyoi had dropped them then, the blossoms breaking against the ground. Michitaka had turned, watching the petals float away in the wind. When he turned back only seconds later, Kiyoi was gone.

Michitaka hadn't seen him again for ten years, until yesterday, when he'd been at Douzan's graveside with a young boy. A soft knock interrupted his thoughts and Memoia opened the door. "The car is ready, Michitaka-san."

"Thank you." Michitaka gathered his briefcase. He didn't know what he was going to say to the vampire, but he wanted to know why he had come back. He also wanted to know about the boy he had seen with the vampire. The past had come back, whether Michitaka willed it or no. Taking a deep breath, he walked out the door to face it.

***************

Eternal Moon Manor. It was big, as big as any of his grandfather's – now his – estates. Michitaka hesitated in the car long enough that the driver eyed him curiously in the rearview mirror before Michitaka nodded and the driver climbed out to open his door. "Should I wait, sir?"

"No." Michitaka answered automatically. "I'll call you when I'm ready to leave."

"Very good, sir." The driver got back in the car without any further comment, but he eyed Michitaka considering. Michitaka turned his back and pushed the gate open. It wasn't locked and Michitaka wryly wondered what would scare a vampire enough to lock his door. He walked slowly to the front door, but he knocked as soon as he arrived at it.

Silence answered him and he had just begun to wonder if Kiyoi was out when the door opened to reveal the vampire who had occupied his thoughts since his grandfather's graveside the previous day.

Kiyoi stared at him in obvious surprise, lips curling softly into a smile. "Michitaka-kun."

"I don't know you," Michitaka answered sharply and Kiyoi inclined his head.

"My pardon, Michitaka-san. I forget that you are no longer a child." The vampire's eyes slid over him. "Though you clearly are not a child."

The blatant perusal made Michitaka squirm. "I'm not my grandfather," he protested, sharply.

"No," Kiyoi looked down, his voice soft. "You're not."

Michitaka waited for a moment, but when Kiyoi didn't say anything else, he cleared his throat. "May I come inside?"

Kiyoi tilted his head back towards Mitchitaka, his eyes hidden behind the flare of his glasses. "Of course." He stepped aside.

"Why do you wear glasses?" Michitaka asked, going inside and looking around. The home was beautifully decorated, and he recognized his grandfather's taste in the expensive furnishings. "I thought your kind would have excellent vision."

"We do," Kiyoi answered. "I wear them for Ageha-kun's sake. I believe that glasses make me more approachable."

"Is that the boy I saw you with?" Michitaka turned in the foyer and watched Kiyoi shut the door. "Who is he?"

"It was. And he is upstairs asleep."

"You didn't answer my question," Michitaka replied.

"No," Kiyoi frowned. "I did not."

"Is he a snack to you?"

Kiyoi's eyes flashed in a way that had nothing to do with his glasses and Michitaka hastily retreated until his back was against the wall, one arm held up to protect himself and his heart pounding.

Instantly, Kiyoi faltered. "I am sorry, Michitaka-kun. I will not hurt you."

"The boy," Michitaka answered. "Who is he?"

"He is my child."

Michitaka swallowed. "Your child?"

"Yes." Kiyoi lifted his chin. "My child. You need not concern yourself with him."

Michitaka fell silent and Kiyoi sighed, abruptly going into the kitchen. Michitaka followed him, blinking in surprise at the mess. Kiyoi went to the sink and began to scrub the pans. "I ask your pardon, Michitaka-san. I was not expecting you and I need to clean these dishes before the food hardens."

"I didn't realize you cooked."

Kiyoi glanced at him and smiled darkly. "You mean that you didn't realize we eat food."

Michitaka looked away for a moment, studying the vast amount of fo0d still on the counter waiting to be put away in the refrigerator. "I suppose that is what I meant."

"There is much you do not know about us."

"Why have you returned?"

"Douzan left me this place. I do not owe you an explanation."

"You do when I am footing the bill to give you the electricity you are using to cook all of this food. And probably the grocery bill as well." Michitaka snapped, irritably. He went to a stool near the island and sat down.

"That money was also left to me."

"In trust," Michitaka answered simply.

Surprised, Kiyoi looked up, one hand still submerged in the soapy water. "Who is the trustee?"

"I am. It seems that my grandfather was determined that we should be involved to some extent." Michitaka hesitated. "Should you return, that is. Of course, he probably did not expect you to leave."

"Douzan was… everything to me." Kiyoi went back to scrubbing his dishes. "When he died, part of me died. I learned that I cannot live for someone who is not willing to live for me."

"You loved him." It wasn't a question and Kiyoi looked up.

"Yes."

"He was in love with you."

"I don't know." Kiyoi answered, his voice rough with the pain of honesty. "I thought he did, but then he left me."

"Why?" Genuine curiosity prompted the question and Kiyoi hesitated.

"I do not know for certain. Douzan kept his thoughts to himself about this subject."

"You have a suspicion."

Kiyoi rinsed the pot he'd been scrubbing, setting it aside carefully and reaching for another. "I do."

"Tell me." Kiyoi frowned at him and Michitaka swallowed. "Please."

"He did not want your father to hate him."

The words rang uncomfortably true and Michitaka looked away. For a long time, the only sound in the kitchen came from the splash of Kiyoi's hands in the water. Finally, Michitaka climbed to his feet and picked up a towel. Wordlessly, he began to dry the dishes.

"I'm sorry," Michitaka managed after the last dish returned to its rightful place. He jumped in surprise when Kiyoi touched his hand, the vampire's fingers warm from the water even as they cooled to the touch.

"Do not be sorry, Michitaka-kun. Douzan made his own decisions. So did I."

"Why did you follow me last night?" Michitaka didn't pull away and Kiyoi kept his hand. "What would you have of me?"

"I merely want to keep you safe, as Douzan would have wanted."

"So you spied on me?"

"There is much danger that you do not realize exists." Kiyoi leaned in closer. "There are those who would take advantage of your innocence."

"Like who?" Michitaka breathed, captivated by Kiyoi's nearness. His breath still smelled like wine. It was the last thought Michitaka had before Kiyoi kissed him. Michitaka stiffened in surprise, then slowly warmed to the kiss. Hundreds of years apparently taught one to be skilled at kissing.

Abruptly, Kiyoi broke the kiss. "Forgive me." He turned away. "Perhaps you should leave, Michitaka-san. As you said, you are not Douzan and I… miss him."

Awkwardly, Michitaka stood frozen. "Kiyoi-san, I did not mean…"

"Please," Kiyoi turned to him and Michitaka's breath hitched when he realized the vampire was crying. "Please, go, Michitaka-san."

"If you wish."

Michitaka stood just outside the door when Kiyoi's answer reached him. "There is much I wish, Michitaka-kun, but you are not likely to agree." Unseen, Michitaka reached up to touch his lips. They still tingled from the kiss.

***************

"Sanyo-chan, I left my meeting early. If you would permit, I would like to join you." Michitaka held his cell phone to his ear, watching as the car drove up to the gate outside Eternal Moon Manner. Quickly, he jogged down the stairs and went through the gate. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Kiyoi watching him from one of the upstairs windows.

Turning, he hunched in on himself as the driver opened the door. "That's wonderful!" Sanyo's enthusiastic voice brought him back to the present. "I will wait for you by the Masque Display." She laughed. "See if you can figure out who I am – nearly everyone is wearing a disguise."

Despite himself, Michitaka smiled. "You will be the beautiful one. I shall be there in an hour."

"Good. We can still hear most of the musicians, if you hurry."

"Like the wind," Mithchitaka promised, hanging up. Leaning forward, he instructed the driver to get him as close to the Festival as possible. The driver nodded his head.

"It's going to be difficult, sir. More people come every year to hear all the musicians. My nephew is attending and according to my sister there are already thousands of guests."

"I can walk part of the way, if need be," Michitaka assured him, leaning back against the seat. He watched Eternal Moon Manor vanish into the twilight and wondered what he was going to do about Kiyoi. Unthinkingly, he touched his lips again and recalled Kiyoi's words. _"Forgive me. Perhaps you should leave, Michitaka-san. As you said, you are not Douzan and I… miss him."_

Pity washed over him and for a moment, Michitaka understood the overwhelming loneliness that must come with the lifespan of the vampire. No wonder the poor bastard had found a child to spend the ages with. Despite the heat of the summer afternoon, Michitaka shivered. Forcing his thoughts back to Sanyo, he did his best to forget that he knew anything at all about the supernatural side of life in Tokyo.

***************

The Festival was raucous and loud. Michitaka had indeed had to walk a fair distance to reach the gates, but he dutifully purchased his ticket and went inside in search of Sanyo. Stages dotted the park landscape, almost hidden in the crowds of people. Booths lined the walkways, offering everything from food and drink to trinkets and masques. Signs boldly proclaimed that this was the year to celebrate "Patterns of Laughter - Masques, Music, and Buffoonery" and evidence of the celebration was everywhere.

Teens ran riot in the empty spaces, between families with their elders and children in tow. Michitaka wove his way through the people, careful to avoid jostling others, even as apologies flew at him from all sides by those who brushed against him. Finally, in desperation, he ducked behind the rows of booths and hurried towards the area his handheld map promised displayed "masques from the world over."

Several of the vendors looked at him, but he smiled in apology and they all laughingly waved him through. Overhead, the moon rose as the sun finally departed for the day and the sounds of music filled the air. Briefly, Michitaka hoped that Sanyo would be more interested in the classical offerings than in the more modern cacophony drifting towards them from the western side of the park.

Finally, Michitaka slipped between a food vendor and a trinket booth, assaulted with the smells of squid and other delicacies, and into the Masquerade. He blinked and looked around, seeing every type of disguise from African Tribal Masques to ones he believed to be associated with Mardi Gras celebrations. The square seemed alive as people hurried to and fro, trying on different masques and laughing with each other. Finally, he spotted Sanyo standing near a small tree. She'd chosen a feathery masque, one that complimented the purple dress she wore and Michitaka smiled and waved at her.

Laughingly, she waved back and then turned to walk away from him. She paused long enough to cast one coy glance over her shoulder and that was all the encouragement Michitaka needed. Hurrying to catch her, he bumped into an elderly man and stopped long enough to steady the other gentlemen on his feet and make his apologies.

When he looked back up, Sanyo was gone. Frowning, he wove his way to the place she had been standing and peered around. A flash of purple vanishing around one of the smaller booths caught his eye and he hurried in that direction. Pushing his way through a curtain, he found himself in a similar alley to the one he'd taken to the square, only this one ran along a tall brick wall. No vendors or guests scurried here and the dark shadows were broken only by the flashes of light coming through the curtain and the occasional explosion of a firework. The moon overhead did nothing to illuminate the area and Michitaka stood uncertainly until he heard Sanyo call his name.

"Michitaka-kun, I'm over here."

"What are you doing back here?" Michitaka asked, walking carefully towards the shadow he thought she must be hidden in. "We're missing the Festival."

"I thought we could start with a private celebration," Sanyo answered, lifting one arm from the darkness to catch his sleeve. She pulled him into the darkness and leaned into him. "Would you like that?"

Heart pounding in his chest, Michitaka nodded. "Very much." Slowly, he leaned down to kiss her. She threaded her arms around his neck, smiling at him prettily. A light caught her face, glinting off her teeth and then her lips were pressed to Michitaka's. She tasted like wine. Michitaka pulled her closer, his hands sliding gently along the curve of her waist as he kissed her, intoxicated by her scent and her nearness.

A fuzzy warning thought slipped through his brain as she moved to trace her lips along his jaw, towards his neck. She tasted like wine. She tasted like Kiyoi. The thought faded away as she bit his neck and his arms spasmed around her. The brief pain of her teeth piercing his flesh faded as waves of pleasure radiated through his body. Groaning, he sank to his knees, still clinging to her as she drank from him.

"Enough. Any more and you will kill him." A voice, vaguely familiar, interrupted them and Michitaka whimpered as Sanyo pulled away. He clung to her, trying to pull her back.

"What business is it of yours?" Sanyo hissed and Michitaka glanced up at her in adoration, her mouth stained red with his blood.

"He is my business." Kiyoi appeared out of the darkness, his expression polite but his eyes glowing white and hard. Sanyo's eyes also glowed and Michitaka tried to pull his thoughts in order to know what that meant.

"Not anymore," Sanyo snapped, bending back to bite him again. Michitaka cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain.

"I will not allow this." Kiyoi's hands circled Sanyo's throat from behind and weakly, Michitaka tried to push him away. What right did the vampire have to interfere?

Vampire. The word swam through the fog in his brain, until suddenly everything snapped into focus. Eyes flying open, Michitaka began to struggle, the pleasure fading into a stabbing pain from where Sanyo's teeth tore at his neck. Michitaka's vision blackened around the edges, but Michitaka knew the moment that Kiyoi pulled the other vampire away from him. He fell onto the ground, hands scraping against the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he could see the two vampires fighting and then he only saw darkness.

When he came to, Michitaka found himself in a hospital bed. An IV pumped blood back into his system and bandages covered his neck. "Hello?" he croaked.

"Good evening, Michitaka-san." Kiyoi's face appeared in his line of sight and Michitaka blinked at him. "You will be all right," the vampire assured him, expression carefully neutral. "You lost much blood, but the doctors and nurses tell me that you will recover with rest."

"Sanyo?" Michitaka managed. He glanced at the cup on the bedside table longingly and after a second, Kiyoi held the straw to his lips. Sipping gratefully, Michitaka let the water run down his throat. It hurt to swallow. "What happened?"

Kiyoi's face tightened. "Sanyo tried to kill you."

"Vampire?" Michitaka asked, remembering bits and pieces.

"Yes." Kiyoi looked away. "She will not bother you again."

Briefly, Michitaka considered whether or not he should ask what that meant. He decided against it when Kiyoi reached out and took his hand. Kiyoi's fingers were cold and Michitaka flinched. Rebuffed, Kiyoi let his hand drop.

"You saved me." Michitaka spoke before Kiyoi could leave. "Why?"

Kiyoi stared into his eyes for a long moment. "I promised Douzan."

"Is that the only reason?"

Kiyoi stood up and went to the window. "I learned a lot in the years after Douzan's death. I learned that you could not depend on someone else to live for you and that your love, no matter how strong, could not make someone else live at all. I also learned that a life without hope is only a walking death." He turned around. "I loved Douzan. You are his grandson and you look so much like him…"

"My father hated me for it," Michitaka managed.

Pain flowed over Kiyoi's face. "It is wrong to hate someone for whom they resemble. It is equally wrong to love someone for that reason. But, Michitaka-san, I can live in hope that someday it may be right."

"I almost died."

"Yes." Kiyoi met his eyes again, his expression calm. "You nearly did."

"Others did die."

"Yes." For a moment, Kiyoi looked almost guilty.

"It's unfair." Michitaka managed. "That I should live when others do not. I have a mysterious protector, but they do not."

When Kiyoi touched his hand this time, Michitaka did not flinch. "Perhaps," Kiyoi said, "I can help with that."

"How?" Michitaka mumbled. Kiyoi's fingers did not feel so cold now that they were warmed by his own body heat.

"I am sure that we can come up with something." Kiyoi assured him as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up again, Michitaka was alone. For a long time, he lay in the bed and stared out of the window, interrupting his thoughts only long enough to talk to the doctors and nurses who bothered him. Finally, he asked for a phone.

Dialing slowly, from memory, Michitaka waited until a voice answered on the other end. "Kiyoi-san. I have an idea." He laid out his plans, answering when Kiyoi interrupted with a question.

"So you would have me work for you? Protecting people from my kind." Kiyoi summed it up.

"Yes."

"What do you get from this arrangement?" Kiyoi finally asked. "I will continue to live in Eternal Moon Manor, with my expenses paid. But how do you benefit?"

"My grandfather loved you," Michitaka finally answered. "I hope to find out why."

Silence so deep that he wondered if the vampire had hung up answered his comment. Finally, Kiyoi cleared his throat. "I hope so, too."

"One last thing," Michitaka said, voice rough. "Thank you. For saving my life."

This time, he could almost hear Kiyoi's answering smile. "You're welcome."


End file.
